


When the Darkness Calls

by AngieO131



Series: OMGCP One Shots [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Happy Ending, M/M, Self Harm, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 02:25:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9413738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngieO131/pseuds/AngieO131
Summary: Bitty has a depression problem that results in self harm...Happy ending, though.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a fanfic headcanon. If you would like to read the real story, please go to :
> 
> omgcheckplease.tumblr.com
> 
> Prompt was asked for by:
> 
> ericbittlle.tumblr.com

No one ever really tells you how to deal with it. No one ever really tells you how to be okay on the outside when the inside is a knot of screaming demons. It wasn't easy, that was for sure. Growing up as a boy in Georgia, it was apparent from the beginning that something was different. Instead of being interested in the football that was played every Sunday like a church broadcast, he was interested in baking. More often than nothing, he could be found tied to his mama's hip in the kitchen, a black apron with frills around the edge covered in hand marks and flour on his young face as his mama showed him the family recipes, his attention reverent in the way his father wished it would look when he spoke of football. Eric was always a bright and happy child, a beaming grin on his face and sunlight pouring from his very eyes.

It was towards the end of his middle school years that the laughing and name calling started, right after he had started into figure skating. He didn't let it affect him much, knowing that his family was supporting him one hundred percent in his decision, even if his dad was a bit begrudging about it. It was eighth grade when his father brought up the subject of football, an explosion to rival his usual calm when talking to Bitty or his Mama. It was enough. Enough to crush that unfaltering belief that his family supported him one hundred percent; enough to make him see how alone he was in his happiness. 

Starting high school was only comparable to being hung by his own figure skates, the occasional jabs turning into vicious battery and picking, words turning from 'sissy' to 'fag'. A darkness shrouded him, kept him up at night, strangling him, squeezing the very life and happiness from him. It was the beginning of sophomore year that his mother noticed his dimly lit eyes, his passive words as he tried to be strong and hide the pain. 

But then it was too late. 

It was the end of the football season when Bitty was cornered, his heart pounding, his voice silenced by the thought that no one cared enough to come to his rescue. The only sounds he could make as he was dragged to the utility closet were pitiful, body-wracking sobs of horror, his hands too weak to pry the arm of the football player from his neck. Despite his best efforts, he was forced in the closet- forced by his own father's football team into the dark and shut it. 

His screams were loud at first, his hands bleeding as he beat at the door again and again. Eventually, his screams fell off, his voice cracking with overuse. When he could no longer force out a scream without the pain pulling forth it's own sob of pain, he finally crumpled to the ground, his hands on the door as he was overtaken by guffawing sobs, his body shaking. No one was coming for him. Of this he was sure, no body would even notice his disappearance; he had been invisible to those that he should matter most to for a long time now. 

It was the janitor that found him, his body shaking, his eyes red and puffy, his sobs still coming despite his eyes crying dry tears. Even with his exit now open, he couldn't even move to leave the closet, his body too weak. The janitor had taken him to the nurses office, the man carrying him with the saddest look on his face. The nurse had called his parents despite his trying to tell her no, the words falling silently, his shaking only growing. He kept his head down as his parents showed up, not wanting to see them. This was all an act; they were simply putting on a facade for the school. Of this he was sure. 

When they had returned to their house, Eric had left them immediately, trudging tired to his room and closing and locking the door. Crawling into bed, he pulled Senor Bun close, hiccuping as he curled into a tight ball, sobbing into his favourite childhood animal. 

The weeks passed in a blur, Eric trudging through life in a daze. He had quit figure skating upon Coach's request- to "try and minimalize any further damage". The one bright thing in his life, now gone in a matter of sentences. His world was dark, his voice quiet. They moved, going to another school. New people, new classes, new teachers. None of it mattered, none of it registered. 

It was late one night, sitting in the middle of the bathtub in water as hot as lava that his eyes drifted towards the razor. He head tilted, his mind silent and screaming at the same time. He had heard of people hurting themselves as a way of feeling better. He had never thought that the idea was appealing, but staring at the razor, there was silent voice whispering in the back of his head. Before he could act, he stood, climbing from the bath and finishing quickly, leaving the room without a look back, ignoring the chills of both fear of the unknown and thrill of the desire running along his spine. That night he dreamt of knives and razors, falling through the air as he looked around at them. 

The days passed slowly, the thought growing until finally one day when he was making a pie late at night after the house was asleep. He was dazed, his mind elsewhere. As such, he wasn't curious enough, his hand slipping and cutting the side of his finger. The hiss of an intake of breath through his teeth rebounded off the walls as he stuck his finger in his mouth, sucking to stop the bleeding. As he did so, his thoughts wandered. It hadn't actually hurt.. It felt.. Relieving. 

Taking his finger from his mouth, Bitty looked down at the knife and then at his arm before up at the door. Biting his lip, he looked back towards the knife. The voice that had been lurking in the background spoke up, loud, deafening, begging him to do it. With a silent swallow, he lowered the blade...

The next day, Bitty awoke feeling lighter, more like himself. Looking at the windows, a small smile spread across his lips. Was that all he needed? A bit of pain to draw further the happiness?

The weeks passed more quickly then, his life a rollercoaster of amazing heights and extreme lows. The heights were great, the lows were... He had become more creative, his mother getting suspicious of the constant cuts on his arms and hands. He had moved the cuts to less visible places like his sides and outer thighs. 

But mother's had a knack for getting their noses in places they didn't belong, and it only took her til the summer between his junior and senior year to do so. He woke to a scream, his eyes shooting up towards his mother and then following her gaze to his naked side and displayed thigh beneath his rolled up boxers. Pulling the sheet up quickly, he sat up, his dad barging in in response tot he scream. He couldn't stand it, couldn't contain the pain that shot through his heart as his mother turned to cry into his father's shirt, his father's eyes looking him up, seeing the cuts through the sheer fabric sheet. The tears that pooled in his father's eyes were like bricks, hitting him repeatedly. When his father spoke, he teared up as well. "We'll make it through this, Junior. We'll get you help. the best help there is."

The months of recovery had been the hardest of his life. During his therapy, they had agreed that hockey may help, the physical contact allowing him to help deal without being harmful. The nights were still full of darkness, the days still full of shadows, but he could feel himself getting better- at least, as much as any person with depression and self doubt, insecurities... as much as a person like him could hope.

Hockey was good to him, though. In the locker room, he hurried, dressing quickly and avoiding letting them see his scars lest he be reminded. He was surprised when Samwell had offered him an athletic scholarship, and he had been ecstatic to take it, to leave the darkness in Georgia were it belonged. The therapist had agreed upon the stipulation that he continue to see a therapist of her choice, and it was a stipulation that Eric was willing to agree to. The therapist took care of convincing his family to let him go, explaining that he needed to get away from his past and his memories. 

Becoming part of Samwell's hockey team was like coming home to a home he had never realized that he had had. Everyone was so welcoming and had treated him as if he had been a part of the team for forever. Soon, he wasn't Dicky, he wasn't Junior, he was Eric or fag or sissy or he-she... He was just... Bitty. And he had never realized how much he had wanted to be Bitty. It was a new nickname, a new town, a new team, a new life.. A new family. 

The time with them was so quick, his daily affections and laughter building like a wall around himself until the darkness couldn't even find the cracks anymore. Soon, he was out. Publicly gay and being himself, dressing as he wished to, cooking and being himself. Experiencing new things and living like there was no stopping him and his Samwell family. 

When things clicked into place with Jack, it was like he had exploded, the walls along with it, allowing him to be open and full and happy. He didn't need the walls anymore; they were his passed like everything else, and soon, he didn't even remember the scars were there, the boys never mentioning them if they saw them, and his mind skimming over them with thoughts of other things that were more important. 

It wasn't until one night, late into the twilight as he lay naked and curled under the rumpled blankets with Jack in the soft light of the full moon that Jack moved up onto an elbow, his hand moving the sheets around their waists down until his thumb was brushing over the scars that still puffed over his normal skin and shown a slightly more light colour than the rest of his skin. His breath caught in his throat as Jack slid down, his lips curling softly over the largest scar. Jack's voice was a whisper, his eyes looking up at his as his lips nuzzled another scar. "Are there more?"

They had spoken of this. They had talked of Bitty's past when they had spoken of Jack's both of them taking solace in knowing that the other shared their demons, though demons of a different sort they may have been. Bitty nodded, rolling slowly until he was on his back, Jack leaning over him. Bitty moved slowly, his feet walking the sheets down until his body was full exposed to Jack's gaze again. His hands slid down his sides, whispering softly "Both sides.". They kept trailing down his hips to his thighs, Jack's eyes following. He felt his throat clog with emotion, the subject still hard to talk about. "Both thighs.". Turning his wrists, he displayed his forearms and wrists. "Both arms... The scars are kind of ugly, but I can't find any way to help reduce the size, and-"

Bitty cut off with a hiccup as Jack pressed a finger to his lips and waited, watching for the look of disgust that he knew was coming. All his received, though, was a soft gaze, Jack's eyes full of an emotion that he couldn't quite pin. Not quite love, not quite sympathy... He watched as Jack's head slowly lowered, his lips kissing each scar on his arms before moving to the scars on his sides, covering all of them in a kiss before sliding to his thighs and repeating. Bitty was gasping softly by the time Jack stopped, his heart aching with the love that he felt, his eyes full of tears, and his body shaking with desire once again. Jack moved up slowly, his lip brushing Bitty's own as he gazed into his eyes. He pressed a whisper of a kiss to his lips before speaking softly.

"You're beautiful just as you are."


End file.
